Chapter III
Catching a Case
Shifts came and went, cases came through and most were solved, some went cold and others were closed with the frustrating knowledge that no matter what they thought they knew, the evidence was just not there. Such was the life of a CSI. For the most part, it was a slow couple of days. Warrick was almost happy when he got the assignment of a 419 in the desert. He was actually pleased to find that he was paired up with Sara on the case. Since they'd gotten closer he'd come to find that they had a lot in common, more then she'd ever let on before. They both liked music and while their tastes clashed in some places, it was nice to have someone who understood the need to create and revel in music. Sara had a dry sense of humor that made him smile more often then not and despite what others thought, she did know things outside of forensics, she had other interests. At the moment she was riding shotgun, and they had some moody blues pouring out of the stereo. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed, but her fingers tapped along with the beat as she silently mouthed the words.
Warrick drove down the highway and was once again struck by how beautiful the desert sky could be. People tended to forget about the stars when all they saw when they looked up was neon. Out here in the crisp desert night, the stars and moon light up the road, dancing across the sand and stone of the lonely desert terrain. Eventually though, blue lights came into view and he began to slow down, they had finally reached the far-flung crime scene.
He put the SUV in park and turned to see Sara stretching and opening her door. She looked around. "You want to talk to the Detective or David?" He grinned, "I'll talk to David, every time you talk to him, he takes about thirty extra minutes to flirt with you." Sara stuck out her tongue and went around to the back hatch to retrieve her kit.
He too got out, retrieved his kit and started to fall into the routine of forensics work. The Detective who caught the case was Sofia Curtis, he could see her off at the edge of the scene talking to Sara. He waved at David, who was kneeling by the body. All thoughts of Sara, Sofia and yes, even Tina, were pushed to the back of his mind. The nude woman on the ground before him took precedence.
Sofia Curtis watched for the black SUV that would bring her tonight's CSIs. Like all detectives, she had her favored CSIs. She enjoyed working with Greg and occasionally Nick. She found working with Grissom...interesting to say the least. Warrick was, well he was quiet. He did his job and did it well, but they weren't friends. As for Catherine Willows, God help her, the woman knew her stuff but sometimes Sofia wanted to throttle her. Her hands down favorite CSI, though, was definitely Sara Sidle. The brunette CSI was passionate, dedicated, talented, and they got along very well...not to mention she had that adorable gap toothed grin on her... So when she saw the brunette get out of the passenger door of the Tahoe, well she couldn't help but grin a little. The grin turned to a full blown smile when Sara split from Warrick and headed her way.
Sara made her way across the scene, careful to make sure she wasn't ruining any possible footprints. Detective Sofia Curtis stood at the edge near her unmarked Sedan. The woman's all black ensemble made her almost melt into the night...almost. Sofia smiled and inclined her head, "Sara." Sara found herself smiling right back. "Hey Sofia." Besides Jim, who was still in the hospital and would be for a while, Sofia was definitely Sara's favorite Detective to work with. She was smart, knew what she was doing and since she had been a CSI herself, she never gave Sara crap about being on the 'Geek Squad' or doing her job...and she had that irresistible swagger. Sara shook her head to free herself from that train of thought. "What have we got?" Sofia's smile dissipated. "D.B. is a Jane Doe. Caucasian, though possibly some Latino in her back ground. Approximately twenty-five years of age. She was found a little over an hour ago by a couple of teenage star-gazers, though they were sans telescope, if you get my drift." Sara grinned, she did. She looked over at the youngsters who'd stumbled on to the body, college age kids, the boy had probably pulled the old 'Under the stars' routine. Unfortunately for both of them, their evening had been cut very short. "They swear they didn't touch the body, and I tend to believe them, especially since there are two puddles of vomit to deal with." Sara nodded and looked around, "Any other thoughts?" Sofia shrugged, "Looks like a body dump, purification hasn't set in yet and I didn't see any signs of animals, so she's probably only been out here a few hours...I took a gander at the body, I didn't see any obvious COD." They began to walk the perimeter of the scene. "I did see some tire tracks, I made sure to watch where everyone was so we didn't mess them up for you." Sara smiled, "Thanks, I'll take a mold and maybe we can come up with something." Sofia nodded then looked over her shoulder, "Well, I've got to go talk to the uniforms. Happy hunting." Sara nodded and turned her mind to the evidence, forcing herself to not watch the detective's retreating form.
David removed the long thermometer from the Jane Doe's liver. "She's pretty cool, I'm putting death at twenty eight hours ago, give or take." Warrick looked at the body, "No apparent signs of animal or insect activity. No doubt this was a body dump." David nodded, "Some defensive wounds, but no obvious signs of a physical struggle...petechial hemorrhaging indicates suffocation, though...You'll have to wait for the autopsy report for a more exact COD." David stepped away and Warrick set his camera for the powerful night flash and started photographing the woman. She had long, dark, curly hair and had been rather attractive in life. Her ashen gray skin had probably been rosy and tanned, but now death had stripped it of it's sun-kissed tan. She had been short and petite, no more then 5'2", probably around one hundred pounds. She was nude so he could see the tattoo that covered her upper thigh, it was an unicorn head. He snapped careful photographs of that, there probably weren't too many of those floating around Vegas. He bent down and looked at her hands. Her fingertips were stained brown. The odor was not foul, though, it was familiar...it smelled like coffee.
She was young, she was pretty, she'd been around coffee and now she was dead, definitely murdered, and her body had been left to rot in the desert.
